


The World's A Cold Place

by whisp3ring_reeds



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is a bad guy, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Revived Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Suicidal TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide Attempt, Toby Smith | Tubbo is trying, more tags to be added later, no beta we die like men, probably, tommyinnit's traumatized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisp3ring_reeds/pseuds/whisp3ring_reeds
Summary: His torn shirt billowing in the cold wind, Tommy let out a strangled scream without thinking. He was falling. He was falling. Fear pierced into his lungs, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. He’d gone silent.I’m gonna die. Tommy would’ve wailed if he could make a sound. He clenched his eyes shut, trying his best to pretend nothing was happening. He was going to wake up from this nightmare now, right?“Tommy!”And then, the teenager was no longer flying.Tommy was thrown into the cold world by himself, but can the warmth and protection of his family save him before he's too far frozen?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 44
Kudos: 816





	1. Dear Diary, I'm Gonna Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This chapter contains suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt. Please be safe and skip this chapter if it will trigger you.

It was surprisingly warm, Tommy realized.

His skin bristled with goosebumps, but his body had seemed to forget he was cold, and on top of the tower, Tommy actually felt… warm? 

It wasn’t a safe warm, like when his family or Tubbo hugged him. 

It was a lonely, sad warm. Like when you sit in a cold pool so long your body goes numb to cope. The world was such a frozen, isolated place, but Tommy was used to it now. A sense of melancholy understanding prickled underneath his skin, and he gritted his teeth and looked down for the first time.

God, he was so high up.

His foot hung off the tower, kicking at the wall he’d created absent-mindedly. He was so _fucking_ sick of being vulnerable. Why was it always him who had to go through this stuff alone? He was just a kid. Tommy wrapped his arms around his stomach and stared at the snow that dusted the arctic floor. He missed his family; He missed Tubbo; He missed Logstedshire.

Tommy closed his eyes and sucked in a silent breath, barely keeping himself from breaking down into choked sobs. Dream was going to catch him... He never should’ve left. He never should’ve kept secrets from Dream.

The young man had run the moment Dream left. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone now, but the anxiety was already beginning to creep alongside his arms. And he felt sick and numb.

Maybe Logstedshire had been blown up… but it had been safe for the time being.

Tears pool in the corners of Tommy’s eyes, and he wipes at them angrily with the back of his hand. His skin feels frozen against his face. He glances down at his hands. Maybe they are frozen. He couldn’t feel anything, not really. It was all… numb.

He forced his gaze from his hands to the ground below. _Jump. Dream can’t kill you if you do it first. Wilbur did it. Just be like your brother._ Tommy cringed at the thought of Wilbur. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his brother. Yeah, Tommy had Ghostbur… but he didn’t want Ghostbur. He wanted his brother… Was that too much to ask?

For one person to care about him? To _actually_ care about him?

Fuck, Dream. Dream wasn’t his friend. Dream didn’t care.

Tommy’s eye caught onto light in the distance. He froze, inhaling sharply and quickly pulling his legs onto the tower. Who was that? _Dream. It’s Dream. He’s found you. Jump. End it. Hurry!_ But the teenager couldn’t move. Maybe the cold was finally getting to him. 

He pulled his hands over his ears. Shit, his hands were cold. Hell, Tommy’s whole body was cold. He tried to close his eyes -to eliminate all possible senses- but they wouldn’t leave the light a torch was creating. 

The source was coming from the distance, and it was coming towards him... Towards the tower. Tommy’s heart lurched in his chest, and he felt his lungs seize painfully in his chest. He felt dizzy suddenly, and his body wavered on the cobblestone. Maybe he should actually jump. He hadn’t planned on it.

Not really.

He had just wanted perspective. To see the world like it was insignificant. But now… Tommy didn’t want to get in trouble. He couldn’t. 

Tommy tottered to his feet, the wind whistling and whipping his clothes around. He felt light as a feather and stuck his arms out to balance instinctively. The edge of the tower surrounded him, he’d only made it one block wide. All he had to do… was step once in any direction.

_Just fall. Maybe you’ll see Wilbur again._

And, far more selfish, _Maybe if you’re dead people will wish they’d loved you more._

Maybe Dream would regret manipulating him; maybe Technoblade would realize he actually gave a shit; maybe Phil would realize Tommy just needed love; maybe Tubbo would regret betraying him; maybe... maybe, they’d all realize how much they loved him. Tommy just wanted them to miss him, to care about him.

Anger surged through him, and he found himself shivering, finally. A child-like temper burned in his veins, and indignant tears streaked down his face. _Fuck them_. 

He was going to jump. 

He’d made up his mind. 

Right?

Tommy narrowed his eyes against the wind to stare at the approaching light again. He was going to jump… but first, he wanted to find out who that was. Was it even someone? The teenager drew a tongue over his lips. They were torn and bleeding. And cold. Seriously, when had it gotten so cold?

Still standing, the exiled teenager felt his blood run icy. No. No, no, no, no, no. That horse… that long pink hair… that cape. Tommy felt like throwing up. It was Technoblade. Tommy felt like he was going to pass out.

He wasn't sure whether it was from the memories, fear, or cold.

Techno hated him. Techno tried to kill him. Techno summoned the withers… Techno wanted him dead. 

Panic began eating away at Tommy’s mind, and any logical or spiteful thinking was chipped away, replaced by fear. He’d prefer Dream over Techno. At least… at least, he knew why Dream had lied and manipulated him. But Technoblade… Techno wanted him dead, but it was so much worse because Techno was his brother… 

Tommy couldn’t stand facing him. 

Seemingly agreeing, his legs buckled. And he stumbled backward. 

His torn shirt billowing in the cold wind, Tommy let out a strangled scream without thinking. He was falling. He was _falling_. Fear pierced into his lungs, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. He’d gone silent. 

_I’m gonna die._ Tommy would’ve wailed if he could make a sound. He clenched his eyes shut, trying his best to pretend nothing was happening. He was going to wake up from this nightmare now, right?

“Tommy!”

And then, the teenager was no longer flying.


	2. Mushroom Soup

“...it’s not important…” 

Tommy stirred when the sharp, intruding sound broke into his thoughts. It sounded vaguely familiar, he realized with a dull chime. The teenager’s eyes flickered slightly, but Tommy refused to open them yet. He didn’t want to wake up. His dreams were so peaceful.

“Heh? You can’t call coming back to…”

That was also familiar, slightly different from the first, but familiar. And it sparked concern into Tommy's lungs. Like butterflies with needles for wings, they cut up his lungs and stomach, eliminating his ability to breathe. 

_It’s Dream._

His heart dropped as all of his memories came flooding back to him. Air was struck from his body, and Tommy gasped. His eyelids snapped open, and he found himself staring directly at… Wilbur? Confusion overtook the fear for a second, and his eyes scanned over his brother. 

It wasn’t Ghostbur. 

Was he dead?

Wilbur’s expression softened just slightly, but it too was cursed with surprise. Dark brown eyes stared into Tommy’s, and the teenager could no longer breathe. He had to be dead. Tommy lurched, desperate to get out of the blankets that trapped him in the bed. He couldn’t breathe!

“Hey, hey! Chill out!” There was the other voice- Techno? A hand rested on Tommy’s shoulder, and the teenager let out a surprised yelp and ripped himself away from the hold. What the _fuck_ was happening? “Tommy! You’re safe!”

But how could he be? Tommy scrambled out of the bed, ignoring how his body screamed at him with an inflammation of agony. “Stay the fuck away from me!” He hissed, trying his hardest to remain level-headed. Where was Dream? Dream would keep him safe. No, Dream was mad at him. He was on his own. Tommy was gasping for air now, oxygen having been stripped from his panic and pain burned body.

Wilbur still hadn’t moved from where he was, at first, and Tommy was beginning to doubt his brother was even real. Technoblade, on the other hand, swore under his breath and jumped over Tommy’s bed before grabbing Tommy’s shoulder tightly. Too tightly. “Tommy!”

Shit. Tommy swallowed hard and froze under the touch. His voice croaked slightly, “Look, ‘m sorry! I… I know ‘m not ‘posed to be here, and… and I’ll leave. Right now. Please… please don’t kill me!” 

The teenager remembered, briefly, a time where he would’ve preferred death over begging, but now it was second-hand nature for Tommy. Because people didn’t love him, and his safety relied solely on his enemies' pity.

And on Dream’s pity. 

Was Dream his enemy now? Tommy wasn’t sure.

His ears rang slightly, and when Wilbur inhaled sharply and took a half step back, Tommy felt like passing out. Was Wilbur really back? He fixed a gaze that warbled with tears to Technoblade. “...please… don’t kill me, Tech…” Tommy hesitated briefly at that, would his brother even allow a nickname? “...noblade.”

Technoblade didn’t move, and his eyes remained unreadable and cold. “I’m not going to kill you, Tommy,” he said carefully. If the teenager didn’t know his brother any better, he would’ve said Technoblade sounded guilty. “And you can stay here…”

It wasn’t exactly an offer, Tommy realized when he saw the hint of finality in Technoblade’s sharp eyes. Even if the teenager didn’t want to stay, he’d have to. Tommy swallowed hard, refusing to say anything that would rip apart Technoblade’s pitying words. His hands shook, and Tommy quickly tucked them behind to him so his brothers wouldn’t see. He didn’t want them to know how scared he was.

“Now, uh, sit down..." the pig hybrid began awkwardly. “You…” Technoblade let go of Tommy's shoulder, finally. The teenager relaxed minutely. “You’re hurt. And you won’t heal if you keep freaking out.” He gestured to the bed.

Tommy, without speaking, inched closer to the bed and sat down. It sank slightly under his weight, but even he knew it should’ve sunk more. He was malnourished.

But… he was fine. Dream gave him enough supplies to stay alive. He was fine. Dream wouldn't have given him anything with bad intentions.

Wilbur shifted in the background, bringing Tommy’s attention back to his other brother. The teenager’s expression darkened with a guarded confusion. He glanced to Technoblade and then back to Wilbur, tipping his head barely as if to ask what was happening. To ask if Technoblade saw Wilbur too. 

Maybe Tommy _was_ just crazy because Technoblade just glanced at Wilbur and didn’t seem shocked. “Phil revived Wilbur… I’m… uh, sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to Ghostbur…?” Technoblade shrugged, turning his attention to the shelf, where food and potions were lined up.

“...what?” The teenager gasped, panic building up again. Wilbur was back? 

Wilbur offered a shaky, wary smile. “Hey, Toms…” 

The teenager wanted to run all over again. Tommy’s skin crawled with horror and questions, and he clutched his shirt. When his fingers brushed soft fur, he inhaled sharply in surprise and let go. He was wrapped in Technoblade’s cloak. 

Tommy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t worn his brother’s clothes in… years. They used to be as close as threads of yarn, but that yarn had been torn apart years ago, and all of them were unsure how to go back. Unsure if they even could go back.

Tears pricking at the teenager’s eyes, Tommy wiped at his face aggressively. The water droplets soaked into the back of his hand. “Wil?”

What Wilbur stood in front of him? The question was haunting Tommy. 

Was it the brother that raised him? The one who held him close when he was scared, the one who wrapped Tommy in his jacket on cold nights, the one who braided Techno’s hair? Or was it the Wilbur that wanted to blow up his own country? The Wilbur who screamed at him, who had gone mad with loss? Or was he something in the middle? A stranger?

“Hey, Tommy…” The young man replied softly. His voice was quiet in the hushed room, but goddamn was it comforting. He spoke softly, with gentle meaning. 

It was something Ghostbur could never do. Be sympathetic enough to comfort. To actually comfort. Because Ghostbur didn’t… didn’t know what it was like to be in pain. He literally couldn’t. 

Tommy’s heart yearned to hug Wilbur, but then Technoblade cleared his throat, and Tommy was spun back to reality. 

They weren’t kids anymore.

Anger sieged itself around Tommy’s heart, and the walls he’d briefly let down surged upward, stronger than ever now that his initial fear had subsided. “What?” he murmured -growled- to Technoblade. His brother wasn’t phased and held up a bowl of mushroom soup. Tommy’s face twisted slightly in disgust. He wasn’t hungry.

“Drink some,” Technoblade murmured. “Just a sip and then some water.” The hybrid gestured at the water with his head gently. Now that he had a task, the majority of Technoblade’s awkwardness was put on pause.

If Tommy was any bit more foolish, he’d think things were like old times. But he was mature now, so he couldn’t… couldn’t hope for things that were never going to happen. They couldn’t go back. Nobody loved him.

Nobody but Dream. Right?

“‘M not hungry…” The teenager murmured but took the soup. It was warm against his hands. There was an empty pit in his stomach, but he didn’t want to make Technoblade upset. “Thanks.” He wasn’t grateful. They didn’t need to pretend to like him.

Technoblade said nothing but eyed him with a distant look. He looked… concerned? That was what the quirk of the eye meant. What the absent-minded picking at his nails meant. 

Nobody moved for a moment before Tommy gently brought the soup to his lips. It burned the chapped skin, and he felt like crying all over again as he scalded his throat. Had Technoblade not realized how _hot_ it was? His hands shook as he tried desperately to finish the bowl.

He couldn’t get on Techno’s bad side.

It burned.

Shit. 

Tommy continued to down the bowl, and if Wilbur hadn’t quickly grabbed it from his hands, he wouldn’t have stopped until every drop was gone. The mushroom soup splashed out of the bowl at the quick swipe, and Tommy bit his tongue to keep himself from shouting in pain when the hot liquid scorched his leg.

Wilbur glanced down at the soup, his eyes pinned impossibly wide in surprise. “Fucking hell, Techno! Are you trying to boil him alive?” He sounded angry.

“Heh?” The brother replied, his breath growing a tad shaky. “It’s not that hot?” Technoblade defended, but he didn’t look sure. He hadn’t checked. When Wilbur shoved the bowl into his hands indignantly, the hybrid winced slightly. “Fuck…” Technoblade turned his attention to Tommy, the younger brother cowered under the look. “You drank it? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” He sounded angry.

They were angry? Tommy didn’t know why. He’d done what Technoblade had asked. His eyes, fighting back fear, snapped between his two brothers. “I’m sorry!” 

_Apologize, quickly. They’re gonna hate you. They tried to help, and you fucked it up. They hate you now. You ruined it!_

Technoblade recoiled slightly in surprise at Tommy's fear, setting the bowl on the table and gently tossing the water bottle to Tommy. He was out of the room in a flash, the door slamming shut behind him. His movements had been rigid with guilt, but Tommy could only see it as rage.

Rage at him.

Fear clutched his heart. “Wil…?”


	3. Athazagoraphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WILBUR POV  
> Wilbur tries to talk to Tommy, but isn't as good with controlling his emotions as Technoblade.

_”Will…?”_

The older brother tipped his head toward Tommy, a conflicted expression playing at his features. Tommy was staring at him with strangely… sad eyes. Wilbur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his brother as despairing and dull as then.

Wilbur didn’t want to mess up, “Are you okay?” he prompted gently. 

He was fighting back the urge to lean forward and check to make sure Tommy wasn’t in pain, but he didn’t want to scare Tommy by the sudden movement. Besides, Wilbur wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be that close to his Tommy. The brother lost that right… a while ago. Besides, he realized Tommy wasn't even ready for physical comfort when his brother shied away from Wilbur and wrapped his arms around his knees. 

Tommy had a foreign expression haunting his eyes. Fear for what was going to happen. Wilbur felt sick. Was that fear directed toward him? He’d really fucked up, huh? 

_Please come back, Techno…_ The young man felt much more at ease with his hybrid twin. Technoblade was better at these things… the whole… remaining calm. Wilbur was still trying to piece together the memories of Ghostbur. It felt like his brain was a puzzle that he was doing upside down. 

Wilbur feels his chest seize slightly. He wishes it was all a dream. Wilbur's eyes graze over the darkness shrouded form of his brother, and the young man bites his lip slightly. He should’ve protected Tommy. He should’ve _been_ there.

He realizes Tommy never responded after a couple moments pass, and Wilbur can’t decide between wanting to disappear and wanting to wrap Tommy in a hug. “Tommy?” He tries again, not doing either. Tommy’s eyes flicker back to him, and those wide blue eyes stare up at Wilbur. Wilbur’s walking on thin ice, this he knows. Tommy’s in a vulnerable place. “It’s alright… I’m going to keep you safe now, okay?”

“I’m fine…” Tommy finally whispers. 

Wilbur hates how small his brother’s voice sounds. 

He takes a half step forward, calculating how much trust he had earned based on Tommy’s reaction. His brother’s response isn’t what he expected, didn’t match any of the millions of thoughts flooding through Wilbur’s head. Tommy’s eyes widened, and he froze minutely; just… accepting whatever was going to happen.

Rage -rage Wilbur couldn’t explain- flooded through the young man, and he found it hard to keep his head on straight. He doesn’t want to lose it like before he… died. He can't; Tommy needs him. “I’m not going to hurt you…” Wilbur feels obligated to assure. It doesn’t seem to help much because there is no change in Tommy’s defensive stance.

“Pff, I… know that,” Tommy tries, but it wouldn’t even fool a stranger. His stutter, his hesitation, his shudder, were all impossible to miss. 

Wilbur feels daggers of hurt and anger stab at his lungs at heart. It feels like he’s on the battlefield without armor. Tommy, without even realizing it, is piercing through Wilbur's skin with a weapon far worse than Phil’s sword. Who did this to Tommy?

Was it Wilbur? 

Was this Wilbur’s own doing?

The young man wants to turn tail and flee, just like Technoblade had. But he knows that it wouldn’t be fair to Tommy. Tommy deserved to know he had an ally in Wilbur. Even it took the older brother years to actually convince him. He’d trust Ghostbur. Wilbur felt his heart stutter with anger. 

Technoblade had told Wilbur about his voices. Lately -or maybe not so recently, considering he’d been Ghostbur for a while- Wilbur had begun wondering if they were hereditary. But Wilbur only heard one voice other than his own, so he wasn’t sure. 

Wilbur couldn’t help himself, “Do you… miss Ghostbur?” Did he wish Wilbur had never been revived?

This appeared to take Tommy by surprise because the teenager jerked his chin upward to look at his brother. An unreadable look washed over his eyes, and he held Wilbur’s gaze for the longest time yet before slowly casting them downward. “I dunno…” He answered after what had to be the longest minute of Wilbur’s life.

The young man bit his lip, keeping himself from breathing. He kind of wanted to pass out. Apologizing had never been Wilbur’s strong suit, despite being the more level-headed of his siblings. Apologizing had never been any of his family’s strong suits. They just… nodded and moved on. But… Tommy deserved an apology…

Why couldn’t Wilbur just do the one thing his baby brother needed?

His ‘sorry’ stung at his tongue, but his lips felt sewn shut.

“I should’ve been there for you,” Wilbur finally forces out. It’s the best he can do at the moment. He still can’t figure out why. Because he is. He is sorry. Tommy tenses at that, and Wilbur knows he’s struck a chord. _You’re gonna fuck him up more._ The young man is unsure whether to continue. “I thought… you’d be better off without me.”

Tommy’s fists clench. Wilbur briefly worries he’d get hit, only because he doesn’t want Tommy to hurt himself throwing the punch, but he knows his brother knows what he’s doing. Besides, he’d probably deserved to get punched. He'd abandoned Tommy.

The young man hesitates once more, “I’m back, though… Let me help-”

He watches as his brother snaps before his eyes. Anger flashes through Tommy’s eyes, and he lurched into a stand. “-I don’t need your fucking help, Wil!” The teenager’s eyes scream in pain, and Wilbur wants to tell him to sit down. He seriously hurt himself falling from the tower... Wilbur can’t think of what would happen if Technoblade hadn’t saved him. “I’ve gotten this far just fine on my _fucking_ own! Okay? You left me! _Everyone_ left me! But I’m fine! I can handle myself! I’m not a fucking child!”

Wilbur winces. Tommy’s right. He really did fuck up. “I know… I know you can… but let me help. Please, Tommy… I just want to help you.”

Something clicks in Tommy’s brain at Wilbur's last comment. It’s dark and traumatized. It’s like all of the teenager’s willpower and opinions spill out of him like he’s a popped inflatable. His lips move without a sound, and he slowly backs down again. Wilbur realizes with a jolt that he’d prefer it if his brother screamed at him.

This… emptiness. It made Wilbur sick. “Toms…?” He tries gently, coaxing out a calming voice. Or as calm as he can get without letting out his concern because once it got out of its dam, it'd drown them both. “Tommy? Are you there?” Wilbur moves forward, closer to the bed, until finally, he can get a good look at his brother. He wishes he never did.

Tommy looks like shit.

His eyes are haunted and lost in some flashback. He has bags under his eyes, and his cheekbone juts out of his skin like a sword. Wilbur isn’t sure how Technoblade handled being this close to their brother in this state without throwing up. 

Wilbur wants to kill whoever did this to Tommy. 

His hands shake and clench at his side.

The young man realizes a moment too late why Technoblade had left. It wasn’t safe to let their anger out -even if it was not directed at Tommy- around the kid. Tommy inhales sharply and paws desperately at the cloak Technoblade had wrapped around him earlier to stave off freezing to death. “I-I’m sorry… here, just… please don’t hurt me. Please? I didn’t… I didn’t mean to talk back. Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry. Here…” his hands are shaking too hard. He can’t get the cloak off, and he grows more terrified by the minute. “I’m trying… one sec… please-”

“-Tommy!” Wilbur shouts, his concern making it hard for him to breathe. He lurches forward and grasps Tommy’s wrists. His brother yelps and tries to pull away. He’s crying. Wilbur hasn’t seen Tommy cry since he was… was… Wilbur blanks. It’d been a while. “Tommy, it’s okay!”

“Stop! Let- let go! I’m sorry! Help!” Tommy screams. It’s a sound that makes Wilbur drop his wrists and jump backward. Tears well in Wilbur’s eyes, and he has to wipe them away with the back of his hand. 

His arms hurt, and he realizes with a shudder that it’s because, in Tommy’s panic, the boy had clawed up Wilbur’s skin. It hurts Wilbur to know he’s scared Tommy that much. “Tommy, please! It’s okay! It’s Wilbur! I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, Toms, it’s-”

He chokes with hesitation.

“-it’s your brother.” Wilbur still doesn’t know if he deserves the title.

But it makes Tommy stop. The teenager fixes him with a tear shimmering, wide-eyed stare. “Wilby?” The nickname makes Wilbur’s heart hurt with happy memories. Wilbur nods, and a soft… kind of a distorted look passes over his expression. “Wilby? Not… not…” he sniffs but hesitates. 

Wilbur’s rage yearns to put a name to whoever hurt Tommy, but he's scared prompting Tommy would sense him into another meltdown. Maybe if he could just get his Ghostbur memories in line… 

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s… Wilby…” Wilbur had always liked that nickname. It made him feel like he was doing his job as a brother right. He hadn’t heard it in a while. “I’m going to protect you now. Can you repeat that for me?” his voice is soft. 

Now that Wilbur’s back, that Ghostbur is just another memory, nothing was going to happen to Tommy. If one more person laid an ill-fitting hand toward his brother, Wilbur would chop it off and feed it to them. 

A smile graced Tommy’s face. It’s soothing, even against the harsh comparison that his tear splotchy face supplied. “You’re gonna protec’ me…” he yawns. It surprises Wilbur... how quickly his brother’s emotions had just… switched. But he’s thankful, and his heart hums with pride when the kid lays down on the bed and tries -fails- to keep his eyes open. “Wilby’s got my back…”

He’s out in seconds, leaving Wilbur’s brain reeling. 

He needs to talk to Technoblade.


	4. Technobrother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade and Wilbur talk. Shorter chapter from Technoblade's POV. Next couple of chapters should be longer and updated quicker. Also, things will pick up soon!

“Techno!”

The hybrid cast a lackluster glance towards the direction he heard Wilbur shout. He’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t startled by the sudden noise, but anyone would be at such an… angry and low-pitched shout. Technoblade raised an eyebrow to his twin before casting a quick glance at the door that had shut behind him.

_Tommy? Where’s Tommy? Get Tommy! Get Tommy! Tommy!_ Technoblade rubbed at his head, and the pressure of his palm pressed against his skull managed to allow him to zone out the voices for long enough to listen to Wilbur. 

Wilbur wracked his fingers through his hair, stopping when he realized he was still wearing his beanie. Technoblade frowned, unsure of Wilbur’s alarming reaction. “What the fuck happened? What the _fuck_ happened?” He thrust an outstretched arm toward the door, and Technoblade didn’t react for a second. He was still trying to puzzle together what had brought such a strong reaction from Wilbur. Had something with Tommy? Or was Wilbur still mad about the hot soup incident? 

He shrugged finally, an off-hand gesture to mask the concerns that bubbled inside his veins. “Heh?” Technoblade leaned against a wall of his house, tipping his head just slightly at Wilbur. 

The voices continued to cry out Tommy’s name. Technoblade refused to address them.

“Don’t,” his twin warned him. His voice was dangerously low, and Technoblade gave up -mostly- on his level-headed façade. “Just… tell me.” Wilbur’s pauses suggested exhaustion, but his limbs were still taut with murderous rage and demand for understanding.

Technoblade sighed, hating the guilt that swirled inside his brain. “I don’t know.” He finally answered, gritting his teeth and turning away, refusing to meet Wilbur’s eyes. Technoblade was a rational person, but his voices were not, and he wasn’t going to allow Wilbur’s insanity to feed them.

His brother let out a scoff, frustration lacing the sound. “What? No. You were here! How could you let Tommy go through…” Wilbur’s voice died -unsure- before picking up, skipping the word neither brother wanted to say- trauma. "You should have been there for him! Do you even care?"

The hybrid felt a defensive wave surge through him, and he once again rubbed at his skull, trying to get his head clear enough to come up with a reply that wouldn’t set Wilbur off. God, his head fucking hurt. He hated the fucking voices when they were like this. “I hadn’t seen him in a while… I thought Tommy could take care of himself.” Technoblade shrugged slightly, trying to mask the hatred for his actions with indifference.

Because he hated what he’d done- what he hadn’t done.

Technoblade should have checked up on Tommy. Should have looked more intently for his place of exile. Maybe if he had, none of this would be happening.

Wilbur broke his train of thought, “Tommy can’t take care of himself!” Technoblade’s eyes widened minutely. His twin had always been Tommy’s number one supporter... so this seemed particularly dark for the young man. Wilbur glanced quickly at the door that led to Tommy and lowered his voice, “Nobody can, Techno, not alone. Especially a sixteen-year-old! He needed his family, and nobody was there for him!"

“He had Phil…” Technoblade tried, but the attempt was vain, and both debaters knew it.

“No,” Wilbur’s voice shook a little, and Technoblade cursed himself for hurting _both_ of his brothers in less than an hour. “You had Phil… Since… since forever. Tommy had… me. Without me... Tommy was alone.”

The hybrid hesitated, unsure when his twin swiped a hand against his eyes. Technoblade couldn’t comfort. It wasn’t his strong suit; everyone knew that. So, why did he always land in positions like this with his brothers? And why did he always want to help but never understand how? Hell, everything he did messed things up more.

Technoblade wished Wilbur was actually hurt. Because then it would be a wound Technoblade could heal. He was a good healer- he just needed an injury to treat.

“Ghostbur helped some, ‘m pretty sure…” It was as good of a job Technoblade could do. The hybrid twin turned away, blocking his view from Wilbur completely, so he could quickly make some soup. Soup that wouldn’t burn Tommy, nor whoever drank it. 

Wilbur sighed, “Not enough, clearly…”

A beat of silence. Technoblade focused his attention on the soup. He’d decided to make beef stew instead of mushroom this time, mostly to make something different. Something different had a higher chance of distracting him enough to get out of this… guilt-ridden, comfort-seeking swamp. 

His brother sighed heavily and approached Technoblade, looking over the hybrid’s shoulder. “What are you making?” 

And just like that, they were moving on. Technoblade was more than okay with that. He didn’t understand why so many people needed the whole heartfelt apology thing. In his opinion, just don’t do something so fucking terrible that you need to apologize. Because apologies were awkward for both parties, and he never knew how to respond. 

_Technosorry? Technowrong? EEE. Technoright. Techno can’t be wrong._ Technoblade rolled his eyes, mixing the soup and pushing the voices as far back as possible. “Beef stew. Can’t believe I gave Tommy that soup…” His voice was angry, but Wilbur seemed to understand it was only directed toward himself. 

“...I can’t believe he kept drinking it,” Wilbur added with a slight shudder.

Technoblade didn’t want to think about the emotions that were brought up again. He’d felt angry enough for burning his brother; He didn’t even want to entertain the protective surge that burned for revenge. Whoever had ingrained that level of manipulation and abuse onto his brother was going to die, but he really couldn’t let the voices catch on to something that would lure in bloodlust. 

They sucked enough already. Technoblade sighed, “We’ll deal with it.” 

“Hell yeah, we will,” Wilbur agreed, taking the spoon that Technoblade passed and proceeding to take on the job of mixing the soup. “Has Phil responded yet?” Phil had never really liked being called Dad, although he tolerated the occasional Dadza. Wilbur couldn’t personally understand, he’d always loved it when Fundy called him Dad, but he’d long accepted his father’s wish.

Technoblade shook his head, returning to the soup bowl with a couple spices. “I just told him to come visit as soon as possible, but he’s busy.”

His brother’s voice was a touch hesitant, “You didn’t tell him about… Tommy?”

The hybrid tensed slightly and added in the spices. “Can’t risk anyone knowing where Tommy is. Phil will find out when he gets here,” Technoblade’s words were curt but also played as a warning to Wilbur. Nobody could know where Tommy was until _they_ knew who hurt him. “Is Tommy asleep?” He inquired, taking the mixing spoon back from Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded and murmured a yes as Technoblade carefully poured the soup into individual bowls. He’d made enough for each brother to have some, plus leftovers. He didn’t need that much food in his home, but when he’d left Tommy’s room, he’d needed to do something productive, or he’d burn the forest down or something drastically similar. 

Passing Wilbur’s bowl to his twin, Technoblade cracked a small smile, “Careful, it’s hot.”

His brother scoffed in amusement. And Technoblade felt his heart warm slightly at being in the company of Wilbur. It’d been a long time. The Wilbur that Technoblade had worked with not too long ago hadn’t been his brother; it’d been a version of him corrupted by pressure and government and people. This… the young man who stood in front of Technoblade now, was his brother.

And God had he missed his brother. Technoblade glanced back to Tommy’s room, and his gaze lingered there for a long time. They just needed Tommy, and then it would be like the old days. Technoblade smiled slightly and finally allowed the voices to drift into his thoughts. They weren’t reminiscing; they were planning. Planning to murder on the person who’d hurt Tommy. 

Technoblade’s grip on his soup bowl tightened slightly, and the bloodlust of the voices seeped into his mind for a second. Whoever hurt Tommy was not going to get away with it. 

Wilbur seemed to share the sentiment, and Technoblade was glad but unable to push away his concerns that stemmed from Wilbur's anger. 

He needed Wilbur to stay his brother; he couldn't have Wilbur go insane like before. It wouldn't be good for anyone.


End file.
